


Queen Karaoke

by thebrightestbird



Series: Let us cling together [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 06:51:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18310397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrightestbird/pseuds/thebrightestbird
Summary: “Roger,” John says the name with the deepest of sighs, “for once, please ignore your drunken instinct to compete over everything. The press will have an orgasm if Queen gets kicked out of a Japanese karaoke bar because its drummer had a row over the low marks he got for singing KC and the Sunshine Band.”The members of Queen have the time of their lives singing other people's songs at a Japanese karaoke bar.





	Queen Karaoke

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is brought to you by a nagging image in my head of John Deacon singing "Super Freak" in a karaoke bar. It grew into a playlist in fic form of songs I wish I could hear the various members of Queen perform.

They’re back in Japan, and the members of Queen are being treated to even more extravagant and fascinating experiences than they had been during their last couple of visits since the tour extends beyond Tokyo this time.

Tonight, they’re in Sapporo being treated to a beautiful dining experience with geisha who are fully immersed in their art, unfazed by the hysteria the band’s presence seems to elicit everywhere else they visit. The band members are soaking in the peaceful ambiance on this rare night they aren’t scheduled to perform.

Or so they thought.

After dinner, the promoters and hosts lead them to a large room with a mini-stage and sound system on one side, a projector screen and several televisions against the wall, a full bar against another wall, plush couches and chairs in the middle, and disco balls and lights cluttering the ceiling.

The four bandmates stare in question at their primary promoter, Misa. “It’s Japan,” she casually shrugs. “Karaoke is required.”

Freddie’s ensuing laughter can only be described as downright maniacal.

||

“All right, boys, some ground rules,” Roger rasps, looking each of his friends in the eyes as they huddle.

“This isn’t a contest, Rog,” Brian insists.

“Like hell it isn’t. The karaoke machine actually scores how well you sing along.”

“Roger,” John says the name with the deepest of sighs, “for once, please ignore your drunken instinct to compete over everything. The press will have an orgasm if Queen gets kicked out of a Japanese karaoke bar because its drummer had a row over the low marks he got for singing KC and the Sunshine Band.”

“More likely it’ll be a Neil Diamond song, the secret softie,” Freddie teases.

Roger scowls in defeat. “Fine, just one rule then,” he pauses for dramatic effect. “No Queen songs.”

||

Freddie goes first. Because, of course, he does.

“Darlings, we are Queen. Everyone knows this. But tonight, I’d like to indulge in a rendition of another queen’s song.”

The unmistakable strains of Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” begin, and the bandmates cheer the song choice.

“The Queen of Soul, ladies and gentlemen!” Freddie proclaims before he gives his all to the gorgeous anthem by a singer he truly has the utmost respect for.

_“What you want, Baby, I got it_  
_What you need, Do you know I got it?_  
_All I'm askin', Is for a little respect …_ ”

||

Brian’s first song is David Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” Because, of course, it is.

Roger wouldn’t be surprised if the guitarist sang nothing but Bowie space-related songs the entire night. The singer has enough of them.

Roger has to admire the incredible creative vision, especially “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.” The sheer balls it takes to make a concept pop-rock album like that with science fiction elements at its center.

He smirks at the way Brian’s soulful voice earnestly delivers the “ _Can you hear me, Major Tom?_ ” lyrics.

It gives Roger … ideas.

Solo album ideas.

||

“Of all the songs we could duet to, Deacy …” Brian trails off in bafflement.

“What’s the issue? It’s a great song. A classic!”

“Yes, undoubtedly a classic, but-”

“No buts!” John interrupts. “How can you turn down the chance to be one-half of the most famous couple ever?”

“I think that’s exaggerating things. Also, I think they divorced a few years ago.”

“Doesn’t matter! They will forever be Sonny and Cher.”

Brian sighs, summoning all his patience. John’s tastes have always been more on the eccentric side of entertainment and a source of many of their disagreements.

“And you’re singing Cher’s part,” John continues his impassioned defense. “Hell, with your height, luscious dark locks, and perfect bone structure, you practically are Cher.”

Brian blushes. “Umm, yeah?”

“Except you’re not. Only Cher is Cher.”

The guitarist rolls his eyes. “Right.”

“But doesn’t that make you feel better that you’re definitely the Cher in this relationship?” John asks, as if any of this conversation made sense.

Brian can’t help his smile at that and indulges him. “John, I’m honored to be your Cher.”

It’s all hilariously sweet fun, mimicking the coy start of the song, each singing their verses while not looking at each other, then turning and pointing at the other while singing “ _Babe! I got you babe!_ ”

They continue the process until the end when they only have “ _I got you babe_ ”s to sing, and they only have eyes for each other.

||

Roger gets up to the stage, a nervous energy hanging about him.

“This next song is by an artist I have the greatest of admiration for,” he starts, the microphone picks up his throat clearing. “So much love and respect for.”

Freddie tilts his head in interest. Roger seems to be looking at him.

“This person had to endure so much to realize their true purpose in life. Their voice, I can honestly admit, surpasses my own, and my performance tonight won’t compare to their mastery, but I’ll do my best.”

Freddie leans to whisper to Brian. “I thought we weren’t going to do Queen songs tonight?”

Brian doesn’t respond, giving a skeptical look, and waits for his doubts to be proven correct.

And, oh, are they correct when Roger starts growling the first lyrics of the song he’s queued up.

“ _I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it,  
Take it! Take another little piece of my heart now, baby!_”

Freddie grumbles through the beginning verses, but Roger’s quite powerful version of the Janis Joplin jammer seems to have hurdled the singer’s bruised ego.

“… _Have another little piece of my heart now, baby, hey,  
You know you got it, child, if it makes you feel good._”

Roger finishes the song while adoringly staring at Freddie. He purses his lips in a kiss and winks at their lead singer.

Freddie smiles brightly back, cheering with the rest of the crowd.

||

John and Freddie have their heads bowed to one another; conspiratorial whispers and wild hand gestures from both men mean wicked things ahead for Brian and Roger. Unfortunately, not the sexy kind.

Finally, the two break and face the crowd wearing twin Cheshire cat smiles.

“Brian, Roger,” Freddie starts, “you two knew this time would come tonight.” The singer speaks to them like he’s scolding his cats. “This is karaoke. The ’70s aren’t over yet. We are professional musicians.” He pauses to give an evil smirk. “And our band’s name is Queen.”

Brian and Roger gasp with realization.

“Don’t you dare!” Roger exclaims in horror.

“Oh, we dare,” John says. “And we will not apologize for what is about to transpire on this stage over the next 4 minutes.”

He pushes the play button. The disco ball cranks up to maximum speed, the multicolored lights obnoxiously swirling around the room. The even more obnoxious, peppy music slams into their ear drums.

It’s as they feared: Abba’s “Dancing Queen.”

John and Freddie turn their backs to the crowd, left arms in the air, hips swaying to the music in complete unison.

“They’re trying to kill us,” Brian mutters.

Roger simply groans and downs a shot of something.

The duo onstage are eerily in sync as they turn around and waste no time singing the familiar first lyrics.

“ _Ooooh, You can dance, You can jive  
Having the time of your life …_”

They swivel low and come back up.

“ _Ooh, see that girl_ (They point directly at Brian and Roger; the men sink as much as possible into their cushy couch.) _, Watch that scene, Dig in the dancing queen!_ ”

For something that’s not rehearsed, John and Freddie are an absolute unit while singing and grooving to the song. And with Freddie’s dark hair and tanner skin tone and John’s lighter hair and general pastiness, you’d think they were actually the two birds from Abba. They know when to sing while looking at one another, they know when to go back-to-back, and every damn time “ _Ooh, see that girl_ ” is sung, they unfailingly point right at Brian and Roger.

“They’re beautiful,” Brian admits. “The music’s atrocious, but they’re beautiful.”

Roger takes another shot.

||

Roger flips through the song catalogue for the artists with surnames starting with T. He flips and flips, then flips backward through the same pages because this can’t possibly be right.

“Oi,” he yells to no one in particular, “how can ‘I Wanna Testify’ not be in here?”

His bandmates groan in unison.

||

As the unmistakable revving sound comes from the speakers, Roger chokes on his drink and his eyes get as big as saucers.

Brian’s face is unbearably smug.

“We said no Queen songs!” Roger screams.

Brian’s face switches to a look of profoundly false innocence before he tears into the first lyrics. “ _Ohhhhh!!! The machine of a dream! Such a clean machine!_ ”

Freddie and John lose their minds, screaming with laughter.

Brian hasn’t even finished the “ _With my hand on your grease gun_ ” lyric when Roger loses it and kicks over a small table.

||

Instead of his usual swagger, Freddie approaches the stage in a more determined fashion, piquing the collective curiosity of his bandmates.

He slowly brings the mic to his lips, licking them before speaking. “I dedicate this delicate but powerful little number to the exes, record labels, racist pricks, so-called music critics, and other controlling arseholes out there.”

A haunting, big-band intro fills the room. Their lead singer sways to it and starts to sing.

“ _You don't own me, I'm not just one of your many toys  
You don't own me, Don't say I can't go with other boys …_”

Freddie sings the Lesley Gore song soulfully, honestly.

“ _… You don't own me, Don't try to change me in any way  
You don't own me, Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay …_”

He handles all the key changes flawlessly, voice cracking with emotion.

“ _… I don't tell you what to say, Oh, don't tell you what to do  
So just let me be myself, That's all I ask of you …_”

On the last “ _You don't own me_ ,” he almost breathes it out, a powerful, heavy sigh.

||

It comes as no surprise to any of the band members that one of John’s favorite songs of late is Rick James’ “Super Freak.” It has an undeniably sick bass riff, after all.

But, wow, they didn’t know just how into the song Deacy is.

“ _She's a very kinky girl,_  
_The kind you don't take home to mother_  
_She will never let your spirits down,_  
_Once you get her off the street ..._ ”

Hearing those lyrics sung with John’s higher vocal range is quite the experience. He’s shuffling his feet and bopping his head. It’s moments like these that his longer hair is missed. The more professional look John has been sporting lately somewhat dampens the movements he’s busting out.

“… _That girl is pretty kinky, The girl's a super freak  
I'd really like to taste her, Every time we meet …_”

Looks be damned though. Deacy has always had a funky vibe that surpassed any of that. He’s absolutely glowing.

“… _Super freak, the girl's a super freak, oh!_ ”

John draws out the “oh,” lets it fade as he pulls away, drops the mic, and walks off stage.

||

All four members of Queen get on the small stage to finish the evening.

“Thank you, Sapporo, for being wonderful hosts,” Brian says to the small gathering in the bar. “I don’t think I’m alone in feeling like this has been the most fun we’ve had in quite a while.”

His bandmates nod in agreement.

“So, tonight,” Freddie takes over for Brian, “we’d like to end with a song that we often like to perform at the end of our shows.” He pointedly looks at Roger.

“Are you all ready to rock ‘n’ roll?!!!” Roger scream-asks into the microphone and consequently into John’s face because they’re sharing (he can’t believe the bar only has two mics for karaoke). He flinches but pushes play at Roger’s cue anyway.

It’s Brian’s turn to get blasted in the face by vocals, Freddie immediately belting out the familiar nonsense words that start Little Richard’s “Tutti Frutti.”

Queen’s performed this song a thousand times before, but tonight, it feels like something brand new. Without their instruments, they all join in singing throughout the whole song. They’re not a famous band performing to an audience tonight.

They’re just four friends having a crazy night of karaoke.

“ _Tutti frutti, oh Rudy! Tutti frutti, oh Rudy! Tutti frutti, oh Rudy!_  
_A WHOP BOP-A-LU A WHOP BAM BOO!!!_ ”

-end-

 

**Author's Note:**

> Track list:  
> 1\. Aretha Franklin - Respect  
> 2\. David Bowie - Space Oddity  
> 3\. Sonny and Cher - I Got You Babe  
> 4\. Janis Joplin - Piece of My Heart  
> 5\. Abba - Dancing Queen  
> 6\. Queen - I'm In Love With My Car  
> 7\. Lesley Gore - You Don't Own Me  
> 8\. Rick James - Super Freak  
> 9\. Little Richard - Tutti Frutti
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
